Suffering?

I don't like to think of myself as someone who suffers. I live with the challenges of life with CP. I manage my asthma, and sometimes my depression, when needed. Sure, there are days when I want a break from my chair, want to be able to run, or even just stand for five minutes comfortably. Those are the days when I remind my self that. all things considered I'm pretty lucky. I'm able to care for myself both physically and financially. I do not have seizures or any cognitive issues at all.    Other might look at my life and think that because I use a chair, I must suffer. In fact I even had someone look at me once and say "I pray  to God every day not to to end up like that!" I'm pretty tough, but that comment brought me to tears. Truth is, I don't suffer.I might struggle and fight a lot of the time but I have a pretty good life. Or I did... Enter gastroparesis.

I know I've written a lot about living with this new companion. I have tried to be upbeat about it. The truth about this disorder though is it makes people suffer. It makes me suffer. The constant nausea, lack of appetite and even  the lack of the sensation of hunger, are awful. In order to function I force a limited number of foods down. I rely on my Zofran as a crutch to make it through the day. It only works to turn the volume on the nausea down from a 7-8 to a 5-6, It only works some of the time, and even then it only works  for two hours of the six it's supposed to.  These symptoms wear on my emotions as well,

On the other hand, I know I'm still lucky. I have never thrown up. I can still eat by mouth, even if it's limited.I have never had an ER visit for this. I've still got some weight I could stand to lose. All of those  things work in my favor.

Work is a challenge.  A social life?  Forget about it. I am so tired after work every night that I can only muster the energy to shower about three times a week. Weekends are a time when I eat much less than I can afford to during the week.

This week, I had an appointment with Dr. Lungs. All's quiet on the asthma front for once. Near the end of my time with him, I started venting about how awful I felt otherwise. He was attentive but I realized somewhere mid rant that he was not the one I needed to talk to.

After the appointment, I called my GI's office and asked them to have her call me back. A couple of hours later, she did. I told her the Zofran wasn't working, but we agreed that because I need to work there really wasn't anything else to try because anything else  there is makes me  too out of it to function  I was surprised by what I said next. I asked her how other people don't go crazy. I told her that I was swimming in my clothes. She asked when I was seeing the next doctor in the string, the motility specialist. When I told her I was seeing her in April, she got very upset. She got off the phone with me, called the motility and called me right back with news that I would be seen Wednesday or Thursday of this week.

I was so happy I told her that I loved her and that she'd made my day. If I do as well with the stimulator as I hope, she may even have saved my life. At least my quality of life.

Time will tell.